


tengo miedo a llorar

by wishuponanightsky



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, F/F, Fix-It, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Slightly Out of Character Zulema Zahir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26395465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishuponanightsky/pseuds/wishuponanightsky
Summary: "Estás bien? You’re shivering.”“You know, you could just say thank you for breaking you out, and then leave me the fuck alone.”Maca didn’t reply. The truth was, she wasn’t ready to swim all the way back; and some part of her remained absolutely certain that Zulema wanted her there with her.OR the Morocco fic no one asked for but I've been dreaming to write wince I watched season 2.
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir
Comments: 51
Kudos: 132





	1. Tengo Miedo A Llorar

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly this is for Michelle and Lou bc they're the ones who dragged me into this madness.

Having to stay at the house in Morocco had seemed a blessing to Maca, who'd thought—foolishly, of course, but hope is nothing but foolish—that Zulema would release her iron grip. Maybe just a little. Maybe just enough that she'd miss Maca disappearing. Maybe just enough that Maca would be able to call Fabio. That was the thought she clung to, because she had to. She had to believe she could make it back home.

After making her recommendations, Zulema walked out the door, and Maca watched her through the window, watched her walk towards the sea, undressing until she was only wearing a white tunic. Watched her walk into the water. From afar, between clear sand and glittering sea, she looked so heavenly that Maca almost forgot who that woman really was.

She couldn’t call Fabio now, since Saray and Casper were still in the room, so there was only one thing to do. She took off her shoes and left the house, eager to feel the sand burn the sole of her feet, and the sun on her face. She crossed the beach, feeling like this was all a dream still, and that she would wake up anytime soon. She was a prisoner, she couldn’t possibly be feeling the breeze caressing her face, she couldn’t be hearing the waves crashing all around her. It had to be some kind of fantasy. When she called Fabio, she would be the one putting an end to all of this, she supposed. So, in a sense, this was her fantasy, since she was the one who had the power to end it.

Saray and Casper ran by her and straight into the sea, laughing like children on Christmas, pulling Maca out of her stupor. Maca looked at them, vaguely thinking that maybe this was her chance. Maybe she could just make a run for it. But the sun felt so warm on her face… She looked out at the horizon and breathed out. A long, slow, deep breath, one like she hadn't taken since she'd begun moving money for Simón. And she realised... she felt good. She was terrified of what would happen next, but right now, in that instant, she was happy.

“Rubia! Eh! What’s wrong, pussy? Come into the water!” Saray called out to her.

She and Casper motioned for her to join them and, however odd it was, it felt like a switch was flipped inside of her. _Later_. The word rang through her, in all of its possibility. She had the phone. She'd call Fabio later. Let her enjoy freedom for just a little while. She took off her dress and ran into the water, splashing the others as she went. A burst of laughter erupted from her chest, as unexpected as it was liberating. She laughed and splashed Saray again. She was laughing too. She was beautiful, really, when she wasn't spitting out threats.

They played around in the water for a while, but Maca eventually had to step away to catch her breath. Saray continually picked Maca and Casper up to throw them into the water, and she’d almost drowned a few times. Still, she couldn’t wipe her smile from her face as she turned to face the sun—all thoughts of phones and prison guards far away from her mind.

She didn’t know whether she heard Zulema, or her instincts were sharper than she’d thought them to be, but she turned around abruptly, coming face to face with the woman she’d come to think of as an enemy, who was swimming just a few meters away from her. Only her eyes and nose emerged from the water, and Maca couldn’t hold back a smile. She used to swim like that, as a child, to pretend to be a crocodile. Zulema looked decidedly less intimating, her hair wet and messy like that. Maca forced her face back to neutrality, though, because she knew that appearances were deceiving, especially when it came to Zulema.

But then, a strange thing happened. Zulema smiled. She smiled, her dark green eyes planted into Maca’s, and the intensity of her stare made Maca swallow hard. No matter the history between them, when she looked at her like that, the blonde felt like she would follow Zulema to the end of the world. And, sure enough, when Zulema swam away, Maca dove into the water and swam after her.

She couldn’t see where she was going. She could only make out the white cloth from Zulema’s tunic a few meters ahead—barely. Her eyes were burning from the salt and she grew more confused with each passing minute. She was vaguely conscious that they were swimming parallel to the coast, after having gone around the edge of the cliff, but she didn’t know how far they were from the house, nor what was around her. Where was Zulema taking her? The thought crossed her mind that maybe she didn’t know Maca was following her, but that would make no sense. Her eyes when she’d swum away… she’d wanted Maca to go after her.

And so she continued swimming, blindly following a woman who, she was sure, would gladly kill her if the occasion presented itself.

After what seemed like an eternity of struggling against the waves, she saw Zulema hoist herself up onto some rocks, and her heart race picked up. The current was strong, and she was scared to hurt herself, especially with how sore and heavy her arms felt.

She braced herself for the impact, telling herself that it was going to be fine, that she’d grab a bump and that she’d find the strength to pull herself up on the rock—the height and width of which she didn't know, nor whether Zulema was still on it. But it was that or cracking her skull open on the dark stone.

She took a deep breath and shot her hand up. But instead of the harsh stone she was expecting, skin met skin and she felt herself being pulled up. Instinctively, she put her foot on the rock and pushed. Next thing she knew, she was sitting on the rock, out of breath, but perfectly fine. It was the size of a king-size bed, and as flat as she’d ever seen a rock be.

“You’re out of shape, Rubia,” Zulema’s voice said, somewhere above her, and a shiver ran down her spine.

“What am I doing here?” she said, trying to inject as much anger as she could into her voice.

“ _Joder_ , you decided to come, don’t ask me!” Zulema replied as she sat beside her. She was laughing, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

So Maca had been wrong. Or the brunette was lying to her. It could honestly go either way.

“Yeah, like I decided to come on your little girl trip?” she sighed. “You looked at me like you wanted me to come with, _no_?”

Zulema didn’t reply. Her eyes were fixed on a point far beyond the horizon; Maca observed her. Her hair was plastered to her face, her tunic clung to her, and her eyes were red—almost as if she’d been crying, but it could just as well be the salt in the water.

“ _Estás bien_? You’re shivering.”

“You know, you could just say thank you for breaking you out, and then leave me the fuck alone.”

Maca didn’t reply. The truth was, she wasn’t ready to swim all the way back; and some part of her remained absolutely certain that Zulema wanted her there with her. Why, she didn’t know. Still, she felt a weird sense of duty towards her, so she took her hand and squeezed it. The older woman’s face snapped towards hers and, for a while, they looked into each other’s eyes, holding hands, and time came to a standstill. Until Zulema threw Maca’s hand away from her. And suddenly, Maca remembered just how deeply she fucking _hated_ that woman. She had sad puppy eyes and she was dressed in white, but that didn’t stop her from being the fucking devil.

“ _Gracias_ , Zulema,” she spat out. “For taking away from me the one chance I had at being free again.”

She got to her feet and dove into the turbulent water without a look back.

* * *

Maca was keeping a worried eye on Saray and Mustafá’s exchange when Zulema appeared out of nowhere, ordering Saray to get dressed. Instantly, Maca felt her muscles relax, and she cursed herself. Why did she feel safer now that Zulema was there? If anything, she should have been more worried. But she had to admit she trusted her to take care of an unwanted visitor.

Once Saray’s beer had been emptied in the sand and Saray had put her bikini top back on, Zulema said a few words to Mustafá in Arabic, and Maca felt goosebumps erupt all over her skin. She shifted in her seat and sighed. One thing that she hadn’t been thrilled to discover was her body’s immediate reaction to Zulema speaking Arabic. It turned her on beyond reason, and it was driving her crazy. 

Zulema was an attractive woman, there was no denying that, but she was a psychopath, and the woman who’d taken everything from her. She should not, under any circumstances, be the person who turned Maca on the most. And the fastest. Thankfully, she’d always been able to keep it together in front of her. And if, sometimes, when she touched herself in her prison bunk, she imagined it was Zulema’s hands on her instead of her own, her only defense was that fear was a fucking prodigious aphrodisiac. Besides, she reassured herself with the fact that she still hated the woman’s guts. As long as she did, she knew she’d be fine.

When she managed to snap herself out of her daydream, Mustafá was gone, and Zulema was staring at her, her face impassible as ever. Maca stared back, trying as best she could to get rid of the lasting image she’d painted in her mind—Zulema, knuckles deep inside of her.

The shadow of a smile played at the brunette’s mouth, but, as soon as it had come, it disappeared, and Zulema walked away. Maca shifted in her seat, trying desperately to ignore how damp her bathing suit was.

* * *

“ _Coño_ , where is she? I’m starving!”

Saray had been repeating various combinations of the same ten words for almost an hour now, and Maca was starting to wonder if punching her was worth the beating she’d definitely take afterwards. When, after a few minutes, the answer to that began to sound a lot like a yes, she got up from her chair with a sigh.

“I’m going to go look for her. Just… eat, Saray. _Por favor_.”

She wasn’t sure whether to bring a weapon with her or not, but the bad feeling churning in her gut made her grab the first gun she found, before she almost ran out of the house. Her heart was drumming a staccato against her ribcage as she ran towards the beach. She looked around, and her blood froze in her veins. She’d found Zulema. But she wasn’t alone.

God, whoever he was, must have been on her side that night, because she managed to sneak up on Mustafá and put the gun to his head without him noticing her.

“The party’s over. Let her go,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, but ringing loud and clear in the dead of the evening. “Let her go or I’ll shoot you.”

Oddly enough, she meant it. Her stomach turned at the thought of what this man had been about to do to Zulema. _Her_ Zulema. Her blood was boiling, and as Zulema got to her feet and spat in his face, she cocked her gun.

“Now stand up. Slowly.” He did as he was told, but the machete was still in his hand, and the defiance on his face made Maca fear he might take a swing at either of them. “And drop that.” He did.

“Kill him,” said Zulema, like a Jiminy Cricket from hell.

She wanted to. God, she wanted to. But there was already blood on her hands; she wasn’t ready to add more.

“Kill him!”

Maybe she could do it. For Zulema. After what he’d been about to do to her, she had a right to decide his fate, _verdad_?

But she couldn’t do it.

“Leave,” she said instead, her voice cold as ice.

He took off, running for his life, and Zulema immediately threw herself on the gun, ripping it from Maca’s hands. She ran after him and aimed, but it was too late. He was already out of sight. The primal need to survive made you do crazy things.

Zulema came back towards Maca, her eyes dark. Threatening. But Maca was sure of the decision she’d made.

“Why the fuck didn’t you shoot?” the brunette asked. Maca was taken aback. Her voice was not angry. She sounded tired. Desperate. And the weight of what she could have suffered suddenly weighed a thousand times more on Maca’s shoulders.

“They would have declared him missing. They would’ve looked for him, and where would that have led them? Straight to _you_ ,” she replied. Her throat was tight, and her eyes burned from unshed tears. What a fucking shit world this was. “To you, Zule.”

There was a silence, during which Zulema's eyes did not leave Maca's, if only for a moment. Her emotionless mask was back on, but her eyes betrayed her. She was shaken. Of course she was.

“It’s the first time you call me Zule. Did Saray put you up to that?” she finally said.

“I… didn’t realise.” She really hadn’t meant to use the nickname. It had come to her, almost naturally. She shrugged. “I won’t do it again.”

“No, you… it’s fine.”

Zulema started to walk away, and Maca followed suit.

“You’re bleeding a little. Will you let me take a look at it?” she asked, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt. She was sure that Zule was not the type of person to like being coddled.

“ _Sí_.”

The wound was superficial but, as relieved as Maca was that Zule hadn’t been too hurt physically, she was still concerned for her psychological state. She hadn’t spoken a word since they’d sat on her bed, hadn’t even winced when Maca had disinfected the cut with alcohol.

“ _Cómo estás_?” she asked, hoping for a reply she probably wouldn’t get.

“ _Estoy bien_. Considering… everything,” Zule replied after a while. “Thank you for having my back out there.”

“Always.”

Zule’s eyes widened in surprise, and Maca felt herself blush. What the hell? 

“So you’re the only one who gets to try to kill me. Got it,” the brunette chuckled.

And Maca wanted to agree. She desperately wanted to laugh along, and for it to be true. Because it had been true. She would have given anything to hurt Zulema… until the moment when she saw someone else try to hurt her. And now, the only thing she felt was a deep desire to keep her safe.

It didn’t make sense. She ought to hate that woman, the way she always had. But something had changed. Forever. She saw it now. Zulema wasn’t evil. She was just the shell of a woman that life had beaten down until all there was left was hatred. And that hatred had dragged Maca down too. But she didn’t want that. She wanted to be happy, and to love life. And for that, she had to forgive Zulema.

“Penny for your thoughts, Rubia?”

“I was just thinking that… I’d rather not.” She swallowed hard, trying to repress all those new feelings bubbling to the surface. “Kill you.”

Zule shook her head with a half-hearted smile.

“ _Por el momento_ ,” she whispered.

* * *

The next few days, Zulema made it very clear that she was avoiding Maca, and Maca had no idea why. The only thing she’d said was that she didn’t want to kill her, and that didn’t seem scandalous to her.

Maybe she’d sensed the way Maca had brought down her walls, and she didn’t like it. Maybe she really hated Maca after all, and was mad that she’d tried to… what had she tried to do? Create a bond? Yeah, that was definitely a stupid idea.

All the while, there was no news of the convoy that was supposed to come fetch them, and Zulema was having more and more trouble coming up with explanations.

“Would it really be so bad to be stuck here?” Casper had asked.

Zulema had glanced at Maca before replying that yes, if they all stayed in one house for the rest of their lives, they’d eventually drive each other mad, and that Saray would end up killing one of them. Or something. Maca had been too busy trying to forget how those dark green eyes had burned their mark forever into her own.

* * *

" _Verdad o reto_ , Zulema?"

Somehow, Zulema had been tired enough to let herself get roped into drinking games, and of course, after exhausting all the other possibilities, they’d all agreed to Truth or Dare. That, or they were drunk enough to be enthused by the idea.

They’d gone a few rounds, done a few tame dares like chugging a glass of beer or taking off an item of clothing. And now it was Zule’s turn again, and she rolled her eyes like she was in charge of babysitting the most stupid children on Earth.

“Dare. Come on, give me something good.”

She was slurring her words, and Maca couldn’t help but think that it was endearing—though ‘endearing’ and Zulema Zahir was a curious combination, it was the only word that came to mind when she saw her like that, so carefree. So _free_.

Well, it wasn’t exactly the _only_ word. But to the other one Maca couldn’t admit.

It was Saray’s turn to give the dare, and she was lost in thought for a while, before a wicked smile overcame her features.

“Zule, _cariño_. You have to give Maca a kiss. _Pero_ … a real, honest-to-god, sexy French kiss.”

You know those moments in movies when music stops for no reason, and it's like time stands still? That was it. Maca looked at Zulema, Zulema looked at Maca, and nothing existed beyond them. Them.

“Saray, don’t be a bitch, come on. Let them do that on their own—”

Maca didn’t have the time to agree with Casper before Zule grabbed her face and pulled her in for a kiss. Except it wasn’t a kiss, but more of a battle—Zule’s hand moved from Maca’s jaw to her neck, that she squeezed. Hard. Maca moaned into her mouth and Zule bit down on her lip. Harder.

Maca could feel her head spinning. It was like the only parts of her that existed were the ones that Zulema was touching. Her skin was burning, and her conscience was wasting away. _Zulema_.

And then, it was over. In a matter of seconds, Zule had gotten to her feet and left the room.

“Well, go after her!” Saray blurted out, motioning for the door.

And so Maca did. The world was spinning a little, and whether it was from the alcohol or from Zulema she didn’t know. Probably both. She knocked at the bedroom door, and, predictably, there was no answer. That didn’t stop her from entering, but the sight before her made her wish that she hadn’t.

Zulema was slumped on the bed, sobs shaking her whole body.

“ _FUERA!_ ” she screamed. Her voice was hoarse already, and Macarena’s heart broke for her.

“No.”

She took a few tentative steps before rushing to her side, and taking her in her arms. She gripped her tight; Zulema shook and fought but Maca had her, and she wasn’t going to let her go.

Eventually, Zule stopped fighting and collapsed into Maca’s chest, who didn’t know what to do, except hold her as tight as she could. So that’s what she did. Eventually, Zulema’s wretched sobs calmed down, and she sat up. Maca could _see_ how much she was trying to compose herself, and she gave her a half-smile.

“I want to hate you,” Zulema said. Maca tried to ignore the way he chest hurt at those words; now was not the moment. “I want to hate you because Hanbal is dead, and your family killed him, and now I… but the truth is, I killed Hanbal. I killed him so I could be free.”

Silent tears were rolling down Zulema’s cheeks, and Maca understood. She understood all of it. The guilt, the love, the hatred (for others and for yourself), the loss that no one could heal.

“Hey.” Zule looked up at Maca; looked at her like she was the only one who held the answers. Unfortunately, she didn’t. There was only one thing she knew. “I promised I’d always have your back, _verdad_? I’m here, Zule. I’ve got you.” She cupped her cheek in her hand, looking straight into the brunette’s eyes. “We have to do what we have to do. _Para sobrevivir_.”

There was something in the way Zulema kissed Maca that made her think that maybe, just maybe, they were going to be okay.


	2. Lloro Para Ti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I didn't proofread this, and I suck at smut.  
> Remember y'all asked for it!

It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, being in a relationship with Zulema Zahir—starting with the fact that she says that they aren’t.  _ No soy tu novia, Maca.  _ And even though the soft touches and reassuring words come to them more easily than insults and threats now, there is still a look in her eyes that makes Maca think twice before taking her hand when they’re walking on the beach.

The people of the village have come to know their little group by now, and some of them glare daggers at Maca and Zule when they walk together; but most of them are kind and gift them a piece of clothing here, a basket of oranges there. In exchange, Maca and Casper teach the children a bit of Spanish.

It’s almost been a month, and none of them are hoping for the convoy anymore. They’re just praying that the village is remote enough that they never hear about the international search that’s bound to be taking place. And that if they do, they will protect them. That’s a sensitive issue for Zulema, who grits her teeth every time mention is made of trusting anyone other than themselves.

In a month, Zulema kissed Maca three times. Twice the first night, and once more in a dark corner of a villager’s house, after she saw Maca teaching the children. Maca had found it sweet, but Zulema had almost run out of the house afterwards. Saying that vulnerability isn’t her forte would be an understatement, and Maca is trying very hard not to take it personally.

But no matter how furiously both of them try to ignore it, they know that some feelings are developing. Feelings that go beyond empathy, and companionship. There is something in the way Maca’s breath hitches in her throat every time she looks at the brunette, and something in the way Zule makes a point to serve Maca last at dinner. There is an electricity between them that is getting harder and harder to turn a blind eye to.

And they’re seemingly not the only ones who can see it, because one night, Saray announces that she and Casper are going down to the beach.

“We’re taking a gun, so we’ll be fine, and we’ll probably stay out for an hour or two so… don’t worry about us,  _ vale _ ?”

She gives Zule a look, and Maca smiles. Subtlety isn’t Saray’s strong suit.

“Zule?” Maca calls out, once the girls are gone.

“Come here, Rubia,” Zulema replies; the half-smile that stretches her lips contrasts with her cold tone, and Maca shivers. The look in her eyes is unmistakable.

She takes a few steps towards her, and her heart starts racing. They haven’t let themselves be alone together in a long while, and they both know what’s coming. That doesn’t mean that when Zulema’s hand caresses Maca’s cheek, the other settling on her waist, she knows how to breathe any better.

“ _ Bésame _ ,” Maca pleads. There’s nothing she’s ever wanted as much as this. A month of longing has made her as desperate as she'd ever admit to being. “ _ Por favor. _ ”

And so Zulema does. It’s light, and soft, and their lips are barely touching, but it hits her with the full force of a hurricane. She grabs Zule’s face and crashes their lips together, hungry for the woman in front of her, hungry for the taste, for the touch, for everything she has to offer. She can feel herself melt under the older woman’s touch, and she knows she feels it too. And, reluctantly, she pulls away. There are a few things that need to be said, not matter how much she wants Zulema.

“We can’t just… do that,” she says, and Zule looks confused.

“Sure we can.”

“No. I need to know… I need to know that, if we do this, you won’t run away afterwards. That you won’t avoid me for days on end.”

“Why?” Zulema spits out. “Why do you need that? Can’t we fuck and get on with it?”

“No, we can’t. Because… I care for you. More than I thought possible. I…  _ Te quiero _ , Zule.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Maca regrets saying them. What has possessed her to say something like that? It’s quite clear that this isn’t what Zulema wants… so why?

But Zule puts an end to her doubts by engulfing her in a bone-crushing hug. She nuzzles her face in the crook of Maca’s neck, and Maca thinks she could burst with happiness.

“ _ Yo también te quiero, Rubia _ ,” she whispers, so quietly that no one else could hear it. But Maca hears it. She takes the words, and seals them away in her heart, to a place no one can reach them but her. “And I also want to fuck your brains out, it’s not mutually exclusive.”

This is when Maca realises she’s in trouble. Zulema’s arms are still around her, and she can’t move. Not that she particularly wants to, but still. The warmth that usually accompanies Zule’s proximity is rapidly turning from a sweet flame to a wildfire, and her throat has gone dry.

“Do it then,” she croaks out.

She’s trying to keep her composure, but Zule forces her backwards until her back hits a wall, and suddenly, her thigh is between Maca’s legs, and her breath is right against her ear.

“You think you can give me orders?  _ Es lindo _ ,” her low voice chuckles.

She pushes her leg upwards and Maca lets out a moan. She is dripping wet already, and she regrets not wearing a short under her dress—because it’s embarrassing, frankly, to let herself be so turned on in so little time. All those trivial concerns fly out of the window in the instant that follows, washed away by Zule’s tongue brushing her earlobe.

When Zulema backs away, she lets out a whine, but the brunette’s leg is almost immediately replaced by her hand, and Maca feels her knees go weak.

“ _ Joder _ , your panties are soaked.” Zule sounds pleased, and Maca curses herself for moaning at her words. There’s something about pleasing Zulema that fuels her inner fire more than anything.

“That’s— ahh.” The older woman smiles at Maca’s whimper, and her fingers brush against her clit again; on purpose this time.

“ _ Qué _ ?” she whispers, her mouth inches from Maca’s. “ _ Qué quieres decir _ ?”

“That’s what you do to me,” Maca pants.

Zulema’s smile turns feral, and she drops to her knees, sliding the blonde’s panties down along the way. Mere seconds later, her tongue is in Maca’s center, lapping at her clit like it’s the source of life itself. Maca lets out a cry that turns into a sob. It’s all too much, Zulema looking up at her while she drains the life out of her through her pussy, the warmth and wetness of her mouth on her, the wall digging into her back where her dress has ridden up… when Zule pushes two fingers inside of her, a tear rolls down her face, and she can feel her face frozen in a mask of ecstasy that she can’t shake off. Nothing in her life has ever felt as good as this does. And she can feel her orgasm building, and building, and building, until she’s shaking so much that Zulema has to pin her hips to the wall with the arm that’s not fucking her—in the end, it’s Zule’s nails digging into the skin of her hip that makes her come.

Her eyes squeeze shut as she screams out. Her knees give out beneath her. She slides down the wall, but somehow Zulema is still inside of her, except her mouth is now on Maca’s neck, sucking and biting and licking, and her fingers only pick up speed. Maca can feel her walls furiously clenching around them, and she’s so out of breath that no sounds come out anymore.

It feels so good it almost hurts, and she’s about to ask Zule to stop when the brunette pushes her dress up and closes her mouth around one of her nipples, sucking—hard. She can feel more tears fall as she blinks frantically, trying to process what’s happening, when the tidal wave crashes over her. Again.

“ _ Mírame, Rubia. Mírame _ .”

Zulema’s voice pushes her over the edge, and she feels her whole body go rigid. She tries desperately to keep her eyes open, but Zulema’s dark green eyes are an endless well, and she can’t stop herself from falling in it. It’s like she doesn’t exist anymore. She’s not human, she’s a ball of pure energy, a supernova, exploding over and over again, the fireworks in a night sky. It feels like falling in a dream; endless, and like her heart could explode at any given moment.

When she comes down from her high, her whole body is still buzzing—shaking, she mentally corrects as she tries to raise her hand to Zule’s face. Her throat is dry, and the floor beneath her soaked. She tries to lean forwards, but find that she can’t move. Zulema notices her efforts with a smile, and it’s her who leans into Maca’s space, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s remarkably sweet, given what she just did to her. When she pulls back, her eyes hold an emotion that makes the blonde’s heart swell painfully.

“Good girl,” she says, pressing a kiss to Maca’s cheek.

Maca does her best not to moan at the words, but in vain.


	3. No Llores Más

Zulema had spent her whole life avoiding feelings. Going out of her way not to get attached, and running away from people she felt herself growing fond of—if she didn’t, she knows how it would end.

Hanbal had been the exception. The mistake she’d let herself commit. And then, as she usually did, she’d fucked it up. She’d torn her own heart out with her teeth so that she could be free—and the sea breeze on her face every time she went out felt like a thousand knives stabbing her all over.

But then Maca had come along, sweet and soft and everything she’d spent so long trying to cut out of herself. Everything that she’d mocked, and condemned, and loathed. She’d asked how she was, she’d tended to her wounds, even when ordered to stay away.

Zule didn’t know why. Why the blonde had taken a liking to her after everything she’d suffered from her hand. Why her eyes lit up every time she saw her.

She hated that Maca made her feel good. Like she was young and free—which she was, but she tried not to think about it too much.

Hanbal’s death was a wound that she knew would leave a permanent mark on her, but Maca eased the pain, sometimes so much so that she forgot it was there. And that realisation made her hate herself.

She’d tried to stay away, but the blonde’s presence was magnetic and Zulema couldn’t seem to find the strength to resist.

And then, of course, there was the evening that they’d shared—carefully crafted by Saray and Casper. Zule had given in.

Things were different now. The tension between them was still as electric, but there were promises and memories in every touch, and Zulema knew she didn’t keep the fondness locked in as tight as she used to. Knew that she let it seep through when she looked at Maca. And, of course, she noticed how bright the blonde’s smile became in those moments, and it made her feel just a little bit warmer.

They still hadn’t talked about what they were, but Zulema made a point not to scoff at Maca’s attempts at tenderness anymore. They held hands on the beach, sat next to each other at dinner, and laughed off Saray’s playful looks. They didn’t talk about any of it, but it felt incredibly natural.

Three days had gone by and yet they hadn’t kissed again—Zule understood now that Maca would never be the one to initiate it, for fear that Zulema might pull away again. Just like she wasn’t the one to randomly grab her hand, or to pull their chairs closer together. And while the brunette was perfectly fine with quiet domesticity (not that she’d ever admit it), she wasn’t sure how she’d react to constant physical intimacy.

The guilt that she felt for kissing another, the still-fresh memories of the woman prison had turned her into, and a thousand other poisonous thoughts were fogging her brain, and she wasn’t ready to play happy family. She didn’t want to. She felt a certain duty towards Maca—after all she’d done to her, she didn’t want to give her hope, when she wasn’t sure if there was any.

She knew the blonde understood, at least a little. Enough not to ask for more than Zule could give, and enough to give her everything  _ she  _ could. And “ _ Te quiero _ ” soon became so entangled with Maca in Zulema’s mind that she couldn’t remember what it meant before her. For them, it meant “I cherish you even though I know I probably shouldn’t”. It meant “I’m here for you, whatever you did”. And it was crazy. And exhilarating. And wonderful.

The nights were usually cold as desert nights, but their fortieth night in the beach house was more akin to the middle of a tropical jungle—humid, heavy and so incredibly, insufferably  _ hot _ . 

None of them could sleep, they could hear the others stir in bed as much as they did. None of them wanted to give up, though, so they stayed, each in their own room. The stars shining through the windows were like a personal insult to their struggle—so distant and peaceful. Besides, the deathly cold of space seemed more appealing than this furnace.

Zulema was the first one to tap out of the race to Morpheus, and she reluctantly pulled on the thinnest shirt she owned, before heading into the kitchen, mildly disgusted by how quickly the sweat had permeated her top. She sat at the table for a few minutes that seemed to last years, before mindlessly walking over to the sink.

She turned on the tap and put her hands into the cold water that poured out; and then her arms. She let out a soft sigh of relief and then, without as much as a second thought, she bent over and let the water run over her hair, cooling her down like a touch from heaven. Droplets ran down her back, on her face, and for a few minutes, she forgot about the heat. That is, until…

“ _ Joder _ , Zulema!” Maca was up. “ _ Estás loca _ ? You’ll catch a cold!”

Zulema couldn’t help but feel fiercely proud at the concern in Maca’s voice. Maybe she  _ should  _ catch a cold, that way her blonde would take care of her, and only her, for a few days.

“It’s actually really soothing,” she said, head still under the cool stream. Some water got in her mouth and she swallowed happily.

“Come on, you idiot.” Maca’s voice was a lot closer now and sure enough, the water was turned off. “Let’s dry you off.”

“What, so I can be drenched in sweat in a few minutes? Brilliant idea,  _ Macarena _ .”

She finally straightened up and turned around, to find Maca standing inches from her, a cocky grin stretching her lips. Her eyes raked over the brunette’s body, and Zulema understood in a second that the now-soaked thin white shirt she’d pulled on had been rendered completely useless.

Maca’s eyes were hungry, and she didn’t wait for a word from Zule to close the space between them, pulling them cheek to cheek. Her fingers grazed Zulema’s nipple, and the dark-haired woman drew in a sharp breath. “Careful”, she wanted to say, but Maca didn’t even wait for a word from her before her other hand made its way up Zule’s arm to her neck, and she tangled her fingers in her hair, then  _ tugged _ . Zulema’s mouth fell open and she held back a moan, her eyes rolling back.

Her mind was fogged up from hours of drowsy, sweltering loneliness, and her body was overheating in some places, while others were ice cold—she felt like she was dreaming. Maybe that was why she didn’t realise what Maca was doing until her fingers were already in her panties. And why she let out a loud moan that made Maca chuckle.

“Relax,  _ cariño _ . We both need this,” the blonde whispered, her voice as hard to resist as the sweetest honey, confident like Zule had never heard her. Something had changed. Or perhaps she was just really horny. Any option was as probable as the other, she thought with a smirk that was wiped from her mouth with the swipe of Maca’s fingers on her clit, and she bit down on her bottom lip to force her vocal chords into submission. This felt really fucking good. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been touched like that.

Maca allowed her hand to wander further down, and pushed her index and middle fingers inside Zulema, swallowing hard at the feeling. The brunette was already wet—it had only been a few minutes since Maca had interrupted her impromptu shower, and yet, her desire was already seeping out of her, hot against Maca’s hand. It was overwhelming. Did she really have that effect on her?

She started thrusting in and out of her, and Zulema’s head fell on Maca’s shoulder, and she saw her knuckles whitening from gripping the sink. This made her smile, but her confidence evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. She needed to make this good.

She picked up the pace, twisting her fingers in and out of Zulema, the palm of her hand rubbing against her clit, and she heard a strangled moan against her ear.

“Is this alright?” she asked, laying a kiss in the dark hair against her face.

The whine that followed served as answer enough, and she buried her fingers as deep as she could before bringing the tip of her fingers back; she knew she’d succeeded in finding Zulema’s sweet spot when a sharp pain spread through her shoulder. The feeling of the scorpion’s teeth in her skin made her own pussy throb, and she moaned softly.

“Like that,” Zulema whined, and Maca had no choice but to obey, her own hips grinding against Zulema’s, her hand between them keeping up its dance.

Soon enough, Zulema’s walls started clenching around her fingers and both women moaned in unison, grinding their hips together frantically.

“Come for me,  _ cariño _ . Just like that, come on,” Maca whispered, chanting encouragement and sweet nothings in the older woman’s ear until she felt her body go rigid against hers. She slowed down her rythm and brought her other hand to the small of Zulema’s back, holding her up as she stroked her trough her orgasm.

When Zule’s body stopped finally stopped jerking, and she lifted her head from Maca’s shoulders, meeting her eyes with a mix of awe and defiance, the blonde pulled her hand out of her panties and lifted her fingers to her mouth, before licking them clean. Zulema’s eyes narrowed, and she grabbed her wrist, forcing her hand down, before cupping her face and kissing her.

Maca felt herself melt. Kissing that woman had to be what heaven was like. When she pulled away, they were both out of breath, and when their eyes met again, she could have sworn she heard electricity crackle around them.

"Shower?" she asked.

"Shower," Zulema replied with a nod. "In a minute."

Maca had always hated cuddling when the weather was hot. It was all sweat and feeling trapped, and it usually ended with her getting up because it gave her all kinds of cramps. But with Zulema’s back flush against her chest, and her arms around her, she caught herself wishing the night would never end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for sure the last chapter, but I'll definitely come back to Zurena in the future! The next one will probably be Ralicia :D


End file.
